


Viral

by LNC



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Chat Noir is NOT a Nice Guy, F/M, Gen, GiveTheBoyAHug2k17, Identity Reveal, LadyNoir - Freeform, Marinette is having none of their bullshit, Partners being partners, adrienette - Freeform, definitely pre relationship, friendship/comfort, kind of not really pre reveal, slight v v slight djwifi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-10
Updated: 2017-07-10
Packaged: 2018-11-30 07:29:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11458899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LNC/pseuds/LNC
Summary: The Ladyblog catches a private moment and Marinette is furious.





	Viral

The video was uploaded sometime after midnight early Saturday morning.

As was usually the case after an akuma attack, Alya Cesaire had been running on a caffeine rush and adrenaline high that made sleep impossible. The dedicated blogger would not see the back of her eyes until her copy was written, her files rendered, and her newest masterpiece was live for the entire world to see.

Or at least the majority of Paris. She was young yet.

Fortunately for the aspiring journalist, the Ladyblog’s wide and devoted readership ensured that the hits would rack up quickly regardless of the time of posting.

What no one could have anticipated, however, was just how quickly.

It started with the local news.

Nadja Chamack’s bright-eyed good morning Paris grin punctuated the more somber news of floods, akumas, and politics with the light-hearted clip. The segment usually reserved for heartwarming fluff pieces about eye-seeing dogs and neighborhood bake sales was instead taken over by the city’s most reliable ratings machine.

Ladybug and Chat Noir were television gold.

From there the clip hit the major news networks and was being broadcast to the whole of France. Then came the talk shows, the copycat blogs, the online articles, Buzzfeed, and more. When the video hit the front page of Reddit there was no stopping the infection.

By the time Monday morning rolled around, less than three days after the akuma attack and the video going live, Chat Noir had become the laughing stock of Paris, the Internet, and the world.

And Marinette Dupain-Cheng was absolutely furious.

The akuma came first.

A recently humiliated magician on the warpath to take down his former theatre troupe, his embarrassment, rage, and all-consuming desire for vengeance left Paris a card-trick disaster in his wake.

Ladybug was of one mind with Chat Noir that his act was nothing _ta-dah_ for.

However, it wasn’t Hawkmoth’s latest victim that had the whole of Paris tied up in fits. It wasn’t Ladybug’s short-stint as a _lovely volunteer_ and her near miss with a trick box and saw that was plastered all over the news. Nor was it Chat Noir’s timely use of cataclysm to free her that had the blogs buzzing.

Not even the fact that the so-called Madgician managed to make the _Eiffel-fucking-Tower_ disappear could distract the most avid of francophiles from this unanticipated dark horse of viral fixation.

No.

Out of every ridiculous rabbit-wielding, bullet-catching, _table-of-death-_ defying moment, it was a 30-second clip caught by one sneaking Alya Cesaire that turned the eyes and ridicule of the world onto her partner.

It was a nothing of a video. Just a brief exchange after the akuma had been purified and the city restored. It wasn’t even a great shot as the bottom left corner of the screen was obscured by what appeared to be the edge of a dumpster. As if the person filming had been crouched down in an alleyway, which, knowing Alya, she probably had been.

In fact, the only remarkable thing about it was that she managed to get so close without either of them noticing her.

 

_“So my Lady,” Chat Noir purred, reaching out for his partner’s hand and slowly lifting it to his lips. “What **was** your card?”_

_Ladybug, triumphant, battle-worn, and very much aware of her beeping earrings, frowned. “Excuse me?”_

_“Because mine was definitely the king of hearts.” He leaned in, mouth wide and flashing white._

_“Oh no, minou. That last fall must have you confused.” Ladybug freed her hand from his and gently pushed him back by his nose. “Yours was definitely the **joker**.”_

_“Huh.” Chat didn’t seem at all discouraged. If anything he grinned wider. “Can’t blame a cat for that. It was a hare-raising situation.”_

_“Oh my **god** ,” But she was laughing as she punched him in the shoulder._

 

And that was it.

Nothing world-ending,

nothing to keep the masses awake at night.

Just her being her and Chat being Chat.

Just them being… _them_.

Until it wasn’t.

Because Alya’s candid camera work not only broadcast their private moment to the Ladyblog and an already too-invested Paris, but its sudden skyrocketing status put their relationship on blast.

There couldn’t just be Ladybug and Chat Noir now.

Now it was Ladybug, Chat Noir, and an ever-expanding chorus of voices, ridicule, and misplaced concern.

Because of a godforsaken _meme_.

It started with a fedora and a bad photoshop edit and spiraled out of control from there. By Sunday evening the _discourse_ had started and suddenly there was an influx of articles bashing Chat Noir as a Nice Guy™ or Ladybug as a tease for leading him on.

Vindicated men dusting off their fedoras to add leather cat ears and concerned citizens writing articles letting Ladybug know that she didn’t owe her partner anything.

Body language specialists started appearing as guests on local talk shows to show how she liked him, how she didn’t like him, how they were already sleeping together

( _Look at the way her shoulders are turned towards his hips. There’s definitely been intimacy there)._

It was enough to make a girl scream.

And worst of all, it wasn’t just her. She knew that Chat would be seeing everything as well.

How could he _not_.

Marinette had hardly been able to leave her house without hearing some one person or other laughingly throwing out “m’lady” to loved ones, passersby, the _goddamn garbage man_.

And she just _knew_ this would hurt Chat. That sensitive, pun-loving flirt.

This would mess with him. Mess with _them_.

How dare they.

How dare _Alya_.

“I can’t believe her,” Marinette muttered, furiously shoving her books and homework into her school bag for Monday. Marinette might not be able to do anything to hurt the nameless online hoard, but she could definitely work out some of her frustrations on her friend.

“Marinette,” Tikki said softly. “I think you should take tomorrow morning off.”

“I’m fine, Tikki,” She snapped. When her kwami didn’t respond, she sighed. “I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve that.”

“It’s really admirable that you care so much about your partner,” Tikki said, floating from her place on Marinette’s desk so she could look her charge in the eye. “Chat Noir is lucky to have a Ladybug like you.”

“God he must be so upset right now. They’re all _laughing_ at him, Tikki. And Alya-”

“Doesn’t know that she’s hurting you.” Here the little god nuzzled into Marinette’s cheek. “She’s your friend too, Marinette. I know you’ll be devastated if you lose sight of that in a moment of anger.”

 _Ugh_.

So now Marinette couldn’t even explain to her friend _why_ she felt so betrayed.

She would have to stand there and listen to Alya as she raved about her hits, her clip being used on real news networks, the assholes who had already ripped her video and tried to claim it as their own.

She would have to nod and smile and be supportive and pretend that something personal and sacred hadn’t just been ripped away and exposed to the world.

Or at least, that was the plan she and Tikki decided on until the Ladyblog posted its newest article. The one capitalizing on its viral hit entitled **Is Chat Noir A Nice Guy™ ?: A study in Ladybug and Chat Noir Interactions**.

Marinette couldn’t even bring herself to read it in its entirety before she closed her browser and slammed her hands down on her keyboard.

So it was that nine hours later, running on little sleep and Tikki’s words echoing in her ear, that a stormy Marinette Dupain-Cheng stalked through the halls of her lycée. Turning the corner to the locker room, she caught sight of Nino laughingly bowing over a grinning Alya’s hand and swallowed her infuriated scream. She didn’t need to hear him to know he was saying “m’lady”.

Opting instead for sanity, Marinette brushed past them to the safety of her locker. If she was trying to be inconspicuous she failed because Alya caught her immediately.

“Girl, where have you _been?_ ” She grabbed Marinette and pulled her in for a bone-crushing side hug that had her stiffening. Alya was too excited to notice. “You’ve been MIA all weekend and I’ve been _dying_ to talk to you! Did you lose your phone again?”

“No.”

“Did you not get my texts?”

Marinette sighed. “I got your texts, Alya. I was just busy.”

“Okay…” Alya was looking at her now. Her excitement momentarily put aside as she took in her friend’s rumpled appearance. Her signature pigtails were in disarray and there were dark circles under her eyes that hinted at a restless night. “Is everything alright?”

“Everything is fine.”

Judging by her concerned frown, Marinette could see that Alya didn’t believe her but wasn’t going to press the issue. Which was unfortunate really when her change of topic took them back to a place Marinette really didn’t want to go.

“Did you see my video?” Alya held up her phone, opened to the video in question. “It’s all over the news!”

“Yeah, I saw it.” Here Marinette really couldn’t hide her annoyance.

“What’s got your tails in a twist?”

“It’s nothing.” Alya rolled her eyes.

“It’s clearly _not_ nothing. Why don’t you stop stalling and just tell me what bug crawled up your butt and get it over with.”

“Fine,” She slammed her locker shut, startling a nearby student who took one look at Marinette’s glare and took off down the hall. “You want to know what my problem is? It’s you, Alya. You and that stupid video.”

“ _Stupid?_ ”

Marinette ignored her.

“It’s only been three days and it’s _everywhere_. The entire world is speculating about Ladybug and Chat Noir. How would you like it if people openly discussed whether or not you and Nino were going out?”

“People _do_ openly discuss whether or not Nino and I are going out,” She said hotly. “You’re my best friend, M. Out of everyone I thought you would be happy for me.”

“Well maybe that moment was private and now you’ve gone and embarrassed him.”

“Him?”

Marinette scowled. “Not everything is for public consumption, Alya.”

“I’m a journalist, Mari. It’s my _job_.”

“Well you didn’t have the right!” She snapped and Alya took a step back at the vehemence in her friend’s voice. “After all of the attention they’ve given you. The private interviews, the shout outs -- it just seems like a shitty way to repay them.”

Alya tapped her foot anxiously against the tile. “I didn’t mean for people to make fun of them.”

“Yeah, well. It happened.” Marinette blew a strand of hair that had fallen into her face. “And you posting that article last night didn’t help either.”

A small pressure at her hip let her know she needed to calm down.

No matter how angry she was, in Alya’s mind she was _Marinette_ and _Marinette_ had no reason to be this upset. Marinette would be happy for her. Marinette would be sharing screenshots and sending champagne emojis with each new view. What Marinette would _not_ be was hurt.

 _Ladybug_ however…

“... Marinette?”

There was a question she was not willing to answer. Marinette crossed her arms against her chest and avoided Alya’s searching gaze.

“Just forget it, Alya. Do what you want.”

And before she could do anything else to put her identity in jeopardy, she turned away and took off down the hall. Or rather, she _tried_ to take off down the hall but only made it three feet before plowing into one rigid Adrien Agreste.

Her tell tale blush was nearly a habit at this point and she was too angry to care much about it. Marinette barely even had time to take in his own state of dishevelment and sleeplessness before muttering a hoarse _sorry_ and fleeing down the hall.

 _Fucking perfect_.

She sought refuge in an empty hallway. Class was starting now but she couldn’t really bring herself to care about being tardy or the inevitable note her parents would receive. Her backpack lay forgotten on the stairs beside her as she fought off the imminent guilt she would feel when her anger ebbed.

She shouldn’t have yelled at Alya like that.

Tikki didn’t say anything, for which Marinette was grateful. Unwilling to risk coming out of her purse entirely, her kwami merely reached out and gently patted her thigh.

_God this was a mess._

So caught up in her own misery Marinette missed the sound of approaching footsteps. It wasn’t until Adrien was standing directly in front of her with nervous hands that she even realized he was there.

“Hey, um.” He gestured towards the stairs beside her. “Do you mind if I join you?”

Marinette blinked at him slowly as his words broke through her fog of misery and shame. When they finally registered she sighed.

“I’m sorry, Adrien. I’m probably not the best company right now.”

“You’re better than everyone else I’ll bet.”

She didn’t saying anything and he took her silence as acceptance and took a seat beside her on the steps. The halls were quiet, save them, and Marinette closed her eyes as she tried to bring her emotions down to a baseline level. Adrien seemed to understand her need for distance and just sat with her. Despite the nervous thrum she always felt when she saw him, it was paradoxically calming to have him with her now.

Gradually the tension in her chest and shoulders loosened and Marinette released a deep soul-cleansing sigh.

“Better?”

She nodded, opening her eyes. Green stared back at her in concern.

He looked exhausted.

“Thank you. By the way.” He raised his hand and rubbed the back of his neck. A nervous tick that sent a burst of warmth through her chest. “For what you said.”

Marinette didn’t ask him why.

She had her suspicions about her partner. Strong, well-founded, terrifying suspicions that she wasn’t quite ready to talk to him about. But the conversation was looming.

“They’re all idiots. Everyone.”

“Yeah,” But he didn’t sound convinced.

Marinette wasn’t sure if he knew her identity yet. If he didn’t, he was getting there. Her kitty wasn’t stupid.

“It’s none of their business.”

“Maybe they have a point though,” He watched her from the corner of his eye. “Maybe it is a stupid nickname.”

“It is _not_ a stupid nickname,” Marinette snapped, startling them both. “And who are they to decide? Or _you_ for that matter. If Ladybug doesn’t mind then who the hell cares what anyone else thinks.”

He was quiet. She sighed.

“They’re jerks, Adrien.”

“Alya’s not a jerk,” he said half-heartedly.

“Yeah, well she acted pretty thoughtlessly.”

Marinette took in Adrien’s uncharacteristically mussed hair and the dark circles beneath his eyes. His clothes, as always, were immaculate but such was the life of a fashion mogul’s son.

No, his distress was more subtle than that. It was in the tightness of his shoulders, the rigidity of his spine, and the way his hands kept fidgeting. It was like someone had taken a dimmer switch on his soul and turned it all the way down. Watching him, her heart broke all over again.

Pushing aside the voice in her head that screamed _this is a bad idea_ Marinette shifted on the staircase so that she and Adrien were side by side. She ignored his startled look and grabbed his hand instead.

“You know,” She said, squeezing his hand gently. “They’re just being assholes because they can’t handle that Chat Noir is smooth enough to use a line like that and get away with it.”

Adrien turned away from her but she could still see the creeping pink on his cheeks. She released his hand and he rubbed the back of his neck again as if he could force his embarrassment down.

Cute.

“Smooth, huh?”

Marinette grinned.

“Yeah, but don’t let it get back to him,” She bumped his shoulder. “I hear his ego’s ridiculous enough as it is.”

They fell into a companionable silence.

It was nice.

To just sit there with him when there wasn’t any akuma, or threat, or secrets (mostly).

It was also terrifying.

To be Marinette while he was Adrien,

was to be without her suit

to be without her skin

and exposed for everything she was.

And Chat Noir knew her flaws better than most.

She tapped her fingers nervously against the stairs. “I’m going to have to apologize to Alya, aren’t I?”

“Maybe.”

“ _Ugh._ ”

Now it was Adrien who nudged her with his shoulder. “She didn’t do it to hurt anyone.”

“I know. I just wish she’d… think beyond the story for once.” She begrudgingly stood up and wiped the dust off her capris. “I guess it’s time to pay the piper.”

Marinette looked down at him. Despite their talk and the small smile pulling at his lips his shoulders were still tense. Like the dimmer switch was still on.

She didn’t like that. Not when there was something she knew she could do to make it go away.

_Well, now’s as good a time as any._

Before she could second guess herself, Marinette leaned forward to ruffle Adrien’s mussed hair into a more properly Chatlike disaster. The action seemed to almost _electrify_ him and she smiled as she met the questions in his eyes.

“Cheer up, Chaton. Things aren’t as bad as they seem.”

It was worth her miniature heart attack to see his eyes light up with comprehension, confirmation, and _triumph_ as the last link fell into place. A devastatingly shy grin broke out and transformed him and Marinette found she could not scold her heart into a steady rhythm.

Lord she was in trouble.

But that was a problem for another time. For now she reached out and took his offered hand as she pulled him to his feet. Meeting his happy grin with one of her own, Marinette squeezed his hand briefly before letting go.

Still beaming, Adrien’s eyes shined as he made a wide sweeping gesture and bowed. And even though she knew it was coming, her heart still gave a happy stutter when he laughed and said

“After you, my Lady.”

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: You will pry my HC that Adrien is a delicate and sensitive flower out of my cold, dead hands. And then I will come back from the grave to fight you for it.
> 
> This started as a jooooooooooke and suddenly became ten pages ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


End file.
